


Awkward

by TinyFakeFanficRock



Series: Ad meliora [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Gen, Tribal Courier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 07:32:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 978
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9426227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinyFakeFanficRock/pseuds/TinyFakeFanficRock
Summary: The Courier's a "widow".  Boone's a widower.  Daisy's a firm believer in not spending too much of your life on grief.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the Fallout Kink Meme.

Her first day in Novac, Mel found herself with time to kill. The lady in the motel office with the soft face and sharp eyes had suggested Mel talk to the sniper up in the dinosaur head -- what a bizarre set of directions that was -- but she wanted to wait until his shift ended. She didn't much relish the idea of walking up behind a watchman with a gun. Still, any information about her would-be killer was valuable, and even more than that, she hoped that if he used to be with the NCR, he'd be able and willing to help her go free the captures from Nipton. Worth waiting.

To pass the time, she busied herself meeting the other inhabitants of Novac, who all seemed like perfectly nice people, even if No-bark was clearly sick in the head and Doctor Straus had been no help to him. Even so, Mel considered asking the doctor to come look after the injured man in the Nipton Trading Post, but after she overheard the guards' opinions of her competence, concluded that was probably not a good idea.

She'd even made it through most of the motel having only promised three fairly simple favors to the people she'd met so far: keep an eye on the McBrides' Brahmin pen at midnight, check up on a Ranger Station, and keep an eye out for work for a singer.

The next door belonged to Daisy Whitman, an older lady who talked about flying. At first Mel wondered if she was sick like No-bark, but listened to her stories long enough to learn that she meant the machines out west -- Vertibirds, they were apparently called -- that could make people fly.

Despite her age, Daisy was still sharp and could obviously take care of herself, but elders living alone would always seem strange to Mel. "Do you have any family?"

"Only my nephew up in New Vegas. He's a doctor. I'd introduce you, but, well, he's a confirmed bachelor."

Mel had heard that expression before, but was still shaky on its exact meaning. When she asked, Daisy hooted a little, told her she was the cutest thing, and explained that it meant he liked men. _Oh. Why don't people just say that, then?_ To cover her embarrassment, she asked Daisy to tell her more about the salvage work she did.

"Oh, it's much less interesting than you'd think. But enough about me. What about you? What's your story?"

This, at least, was comfortable territory. Mel had told this story many times and knew exactly when to look away, when to swallow hard, when to add the little pained pause that said _even after all these years, this is all still so terribly raw for me, please let's talk about anything else_. As much as _he_ had taken from her, he had also given her a master class in deception.

"Some of us draw harder lots in life than others," said Daisy gently. Then she sat up straight, as if remembering something. "Speaking of, there's someone I think you ought to meet. Craig lost his wife almost six months ago. I think he'd appreciate hearing from someone who's been there, too."

_Except I haven't,_ Mel thought, but replied aloud, "I don't know if it would really help. Everyone's grief is different. And he may not want to talk to a total stranger about it anyway. I'll just resupply at Cliff's and be on my way."

"Nonsense. Come with me," Daisy said firmly. She led Mel by the hand down the steps and rapped smartly on a door on the ground floor, one Mel had skipped because she thought the room was vacant.

"Fuck off, Vargas," came a muffled voice from inside. Perhaps it was just as well she hadn't knocked earlier.

Daisy, however, was completely unruffled. "Try again, Craig."

"Oh. Sorry." She heard a few footfalls, and then the door opened. "What do you need, Daisy?"

"Mel here was coming through town and it turns out she lost her husband a few years back. I thought it might be good for you two to ... talk."

That too-innocent little pause finally made everything clear to Mel. _She's trying to set us up! Oh, dear._

"I don't feel like talking."

"You can't say that forever, Craig. I'll just leave you two to get acquainted." Daisy actually _pushed_ Mel through the door and then retreated, closing it behind her.

They stared at one another for a long moment. His eyes were hidden behind sunglasses -- _why is he wearing them indoors?_ \-- so she couldn't get much from them, but even without seeing his gaze, Mel knew when someone was taking her measure. Whatever he'd observed about her, though, he kept to himself.

He was a powerfully built man, enough so that Mel would have been nervous if he didn't seem a bit spooked himself. His posture was tense and uncomfortable, the effect exacerbated by the deep lines in his face, likely carved there by his bereavement. Mel wished absurdly that she could trade with him; she'd be overjoyed if her husband died.

"Well, this is awkward," she finally said, unable to come up with anything better to break the silence.

"You're wasting your time," he replied curtly. "I'm not looking for a hookup."

Bristling at the implication, she retorted, "Neither was I."

He dropped his head and turned away from her. She suspected it was all the apology she was going to get. Then again, she _had_ barged into his room, even if unwillingly. "Look, I -- this wasn't my idea and I'm sorry," she said in a softer voice, feeling behind her for the door handle so she could back out of the room. "I'm going now."

The moment her fingers closed on it, he turned back. "Wait. You just got into town. Maybe you shouldn't go. Not just yet."


End file.
